


Hero

by aworldwithoutwar



Category: - - Fandom
Genre: Gambling, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, OC, Other, hero - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aworldwithoutwar/pseuds/aworldwithoutwar
Summary: My hero is a little bit different... but he's a hero all the same.





	Hero

**Hero**

/ˈhɪərəʊ

_Noun_

A person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

 

 

I turned to the man standing next to me, slightly startled to find that he’d been openly staring this whole time.

 

“What’s that, a dictionary?” He asked in his rough, husky voice, worn through days and months of labor.

 

I nodded, flipping the grimy book that looks like it’s definitely seen better days shut. I held it out towards him in a silent question. _Do you want to read?_

He scrunched his nose, face pulling into a frown. “Nah. Too many words, makes my head ache.” Despite his rugged features, with a squared jaw, broad nose and weary eyes that made him seem much older than what he truly was, he plucked the weighty book out of my frail, stick-thin hands gingerly, delicately, as if one wrong move would have me crumbling into bits. His actions were ever so gentle, like they’d always been with me. “Put that back, we have to go.”

 

I watched as he set the book down next to the enormous dumpster emitting a putrid stench of rot and trash I have long since grown used to, and was pretty sure that it must’ve seeped into my clothes. Not that these clothes had been clean to begin with anyway.

 

I got on my feet, ready to finally leave this dark, filthy alley that we’d been squatting in for the better half of the day, resting and catching our breaths along with feeble attempts to replenish our famished bodies.

 

I placed my petite hand in his calloused palm, relishing the warmth that immediately courses throughout my arm, all the way to the bottom of my heart as his hand closes around mine.

 

“Don’t let go,” his cautions with a whisper, deep eyes boring into mine, a number of mixed emotions swirling behind those glassy orbs.

 

I nod, giving him a little squeeze in reassurance. I wasn’t going to leave his side. Not now, not ever. I don’t understand why he still does this repeatedly, always the same cycle every night.

 

Content, he turns back to the task at hand, vigilantly peeking round the corner into the quiet, deserted streets. Alert, watching, listening, checking, before a little tug lets me know that the coast is clear, and we move.

 

We trudged across the streets, always staying in the comfort of shadows, warily navigating through the dark.

 

It’d been a while before we eventually came to a halt. In front of us stood a worn-down building that claimed to be a casino, whereas in reality it was really just a poor imitation. _This is all for today, huh?_

 

“This is it,” the man spoke in a hushed tone, confirming my thoughts, as if he could read each sentence that flickers through my mind. “I’m sorry, but could you wait a bit? I’ll be quick, I promise.” Each world that tumbles through his lips had already been anticipated. I part my lips, about to refuse, but I soon snapped it shut, a heavy weight falling on my heart as I realized I’d fallen into habit again. I resorted to only nodding in silent defeat, nibbling on my lower lip as I hesitate to part with him.

 

He seems to have sensed my worry, because next thing I know he’s kneeling in front of me at eye-level, both hands grasping mine, his gaze comforting and assuring, soothing the thousands of chaotic thoughts in my mind. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back safe as always. This old geezer’s a tough one, he is,” he gave a low chuckle before removing a hand from my grip and holding it up towards me. “Pinky promise.”

 

I stared at his little finger. Even to the tiniest parts of his body, proof of hardships lay. I wordlessly observed his bruised and raw knuckles before dejectedly locking my pinky with his.

 

He smiled, standing and giving me a little affectionate pat on the head. “We’ll get out of this soon.” My eyes dampen at the hint of hope laced in those words. _Will we ever?_ Given the situation, it definitely doesn’t seem likely.

 

Nevertheless, I make my way towards a dark corner. He watches me, making sure I was well hidden out of sight, before finally heading inwards with dread in his footsteps. Only when there was no longer trace of his silhouette did I allow myself to slump against the wall, slowly sliding towards the ground. I pulled my knees towards myself, hugging them tightly against my chest, attempting to breathe warmth into my small frame. There, I waited.

 

The wait was long, the fear of the unknown torturing. Had it been hours, or just minutes? Either way, it’d felt like days. It always did. I began to get jittery, jumping at the faintest of sounds and adopting the habit of uneasily glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. There in the dark, with nothing to distract myself with, my excruciatingly bored mind decided to play on its own. Figures and faces started to manufacture out of thin air, none of which were pleasant. Though I knew all too well that they were but figments of my imagination, it seemed awfully real.

 

I buried my face into my hands, as far away as I could get from the monsters of my mind. I can’t risk leaving the area for fear that someone might spot me, or worse, _they_ might. The real monsters.

 

All of a sudden, a loud crash awoke me from my stupor.

 

The sound of a pained grunt had me leaping onto my feet, my numb legs and stiff joints groaning in complaint, but I paid them no heed. Blood rushed throughout my body and I felt the adrenaline kick in. _Ah,_ I thought, _it’s happened again._

In a flash, I felt a hand close around mine and jerk me into a full-on sprint. “ _Run,_ ” a familiar voice croaked, his breaths heavily labored. I followed without question, not daring to sneak a glance at our obviously outraged pursuers, knowing that a slight waver, a single mistake could end up terribly.

 

We ran and ran. Both of our bodies were threatening to collapse from fatigue, but a fitful yell of rage from behind kept us from it. I pushed, willing my legs to keep moving, my heart beating so fast I wondered if it would just abruptly stop from overheating.

 

A sudden yank had me thrown off course, and all of a sudden there was nothing beneath my feet. I could barely register a pair of strong arms wrapping around my build as I frantically grasped for anything that could keep me steady, my hands coming to clench around what seemed like fabric.

 

I heard the impact more than I felt it, for most of it had been absorbed by the body curled around mine in an attempt to shield me. A painful gasp escaped from the man’s lips, but his arms only tightened around me, keeping me trapped in his embrace. “ _Quiet_ ,” he shushed with an agonizing rasp.

 

I obediently complied, going slack in his arms and desperately trying to calm my panicked breaths even though every nerve in my mind was screaming at me to check if he was fine, if he was hurt.

           

Every single muscle in my body went taut when I heard voices. Voices that were very, _very_ near.

 

I listened to the group of men bicker in frustration, the loud noises almost drowned out by my own erratic heartbeat. After a few moments of nerve-wrecking tension, they finally left, heavy footsteps retreating into the night.

 

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. A small snigger drew my attention back to my main concern. I quickly rolled off the man’s body, sparing his lungs from the burden of my weight any longer.

 

My eyes scanned the entirety of his body for any visible injuries. The spent individual seemed to be sporting a colorful bruise high on his cheekbones, right underneath his left eye. Otherwise, he appeared fine.

 

“Don’t fret, I’m fine. A big guy landed one hell of a punch on me, but of course, I got him back twice as hard.” He grinned, as if reminiscing a happy memory, but the impression was soon wiped clean from my mind as his lips curled into a snarl. “The bastards took my earnings,” he spat with disdain.

 

A sudden sob racked through his body, and my eyes snapped wide in alarm.

 

“It’s only been a day past this month’s deadline. A _day_. And they’re already coming for my arse like a pack of bloody bloodhounds,” he growled, tears streaming freely down the sides of his face.

 

“What will I do if we can’t run anymore? What will I do if we get caught? What will I do if-” he choked “-if they _hurt you again?_ ”

 

The mere thought sent a shudder down my spine, my eyes coming to meet with his, glazed with tears and worry and pure _love_.

 

The man threw an arm over his eyes, crying into the tattered sleeves of his shirt. “I swear I’ll make them pay ten times over for what they did to you.”

 

I cast my eyes downwards, my heart dropping into the deepest pits of my stomach at the foul memory. My father had been a gambling addict and a drunkard, always biting more than he could chew, taking more risks than conceivable. When he finally broke, chased down with a debt of 20 million, he’d taken his life.

 

My brother and I had been left to shoulder his responsibilities, and the bank had taken everything we had before they were finally satisfied, but that only covered my father’s legal loans, while the underground loan sharks and mafias had been demanding payment for the last few months. With no way of earning money in such a short amount of time, my brother had turned to gambling, though he absolutely loathed it, he had to. The original deadline was two months ago, and when we failed to turn in the sufficient amount of money, they’d held my brother down - kicking and flailing – and made him watch as they cut out my tongue, with a promise that they’ll do worse next time - before we were thrown back out on the streets.

 

Since then we’d been on the run, my brother never letting me out of his sight, and always making sure I steered clear of places that were even the slightest bit dangerous.

 

A thought flashed in my mind, along with the words I’ve been aching to say but never could. I crawled towards the man, gently tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

 

He sniffled and turned to me, gaze ever so gentle, brows arched in question. I reached a hand into my flimsy pocket and pulled out a torn piece of the book I’d found a while ago.

Gingerly unfolding the crumpled piece of paper containing the one word that conveyed my feelings in whole, I held it up for him to see as I lifted a small finger and pointed towards him.

 

_Hero._

 

I watched the man cry out his pain, his anger towards the world, towards our father, towards his own uselessness as the night faded away.

 

 

 


End file.
